


Lessons In Office Conduct

by carl_barker (aww_yeah)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Destiel - Freeform, Dom!Cas, Light BDSM, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aww_yeah/pseuds/carl_barker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wants a job. He gets a lot more than that. </p>
<p> <br/><i>"How well do you take instruction?" Castiel leaned forward as he spoke, eyes searching Dean’s. He was so close Dean could smell his cologne and see every fleck of navy in his irises. God fucking damn this guy was stunning. It took a second for his brain to catch up.</i></p>
<p> <i>"Are we talking in a professional sense?"</i></p>
<p> <i>Cas gave him a half-smile. "Not necessarily."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons In Office Conduct

Dean straightened his tie for the fourth time and glanced around the lobby, wondering how long they were going to make him wait. He checked his watch – five thirty. The interview was supposed to start a half hour ago. He forced his knee to stop jumping and smoothed his hands on his thighs, running his tongue nervously over his lower lip. He knew they did it on purpose - they _must_ do - but it didn’t stop the wait hiking his anxiety levels up.

It wasn’t like the job was all that much of a big deal; it was just a low-paying telesales gig, but it was what he envisioned it could lead to that mattered. He’d heard that if you worked hard enough, they paid attention here, and they promoted from within. He wanted the opportunity to show that he could do it, prove to his dad he wasn’t a good-for-nothing who only cared about fixing up his car, getting drunk and waking up in the beds of people who hardly remembered his name.

He looked up as a door opened, and the pretty brunette who’d shown him in clicked towards him in her heels, steps made small by her tight pencil skirt. She smiled warmly at him as she approached. “They’re ready for you, Mr Winchester. If you’ll just follow me.”

He got up and trailed a few steps behind her, wondering idly if she was wearing underwear under the skirt. He was deciding probably not when she stopped walking and he almost ran into her. 

“Oops!” She giggled, tossing her hair back, half-lidded eyes sweeping over him appreciatively. “It’s just in here. Good luck!” She knocked the door and stood aside, pushing it open so he could go through as someone called for them to enter from the other side.

“Mr Novak, Ms Novak, your five o clock interview.” She said, business-like again.

“Thank you, Wendy.” The woman said, stepping forward to shake Dean’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr Winchester. I’m Naomi Novak, and this is my brother, Castiel Novak.”

Castiel leant forward to shake Dean’s hand as well, his grip firm and palm somehow simultaneously soft and calloused, and Dean was immediately struck by his eyes. Not only were they the deepest blue he’d ever seen, but there was an intensity to his gaze unlike anything he was used to. He blinked and let go, somehow fumbling a smile onto his face. “Hi, I’m Dean.”

“Please, sit.” Naomi gestured to the chair across from their desk and he sat, folding his hands in his lap so he wouldn’t fidget. They both sat too, Naomi smiling reassuringly and Castiel watching, expression unreadable. Naomi asked most of the questions, and he mostly sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair, fingers occasionally rubbing across his jaw as he surveyed Dean.

When he finally spoke, Dean was so shocked he didn’t entirely hear the question. “Excuse me?”

A look of amusement crossed Castiel’s face, and Naomi gave him a warning glance. “I asked why you want to work for this company, Dean.”

His voice was much deeper than Dean had expected, and held a commanding tone despite his casual demeanour. Dean felt himself blushing. “I’m sorry.” He reeled off the answer he’d been practising for the last few days and they seemed suitably impressed. Castiel sat back in his chair again, laughter still dancing in his eyes.

After that he tried not to pay too much attention to Castiel. He was too distracting, with his expensive suit, mussed-up hair and penetrating eyes. Every time Dean looked at him, he’d end up looking at his lips and forgetting what he was going to say. They were so full, pink and slightly chapped. He wondered what they’d feel like against his own. As a rule, he didn’t go for older guys – Dean guessed there was at least a ten year age gap between them - but there was just _something_ about him. Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He directed his answers to Naomi, and because she asked most of the questions, that wasn’t difficult.

The rest of the interview seemed to pass quickly, though it was well past six when they finished. Naomi looked impressed enough, anyway, and when it finally came time to stand up, shake hands and leave, he did so optimistically. Despite Castiel’s staring, he thought he’d held it together pretty well. He hadn’t fucked up, at least, and had had an answer for everything she threw at him. 

He rode the elevator down to the ground floor feeling pretty damn proud of himself. It wasn’t until he was striding through the lobby that his nerves hit again. His hands trembled as he pushed himself out into the street. What the hell? He took a few deep breaths. No big deal. He was fine, it had gone well, and Castiel? He’d just been staring so much ‘cause he had bad manners. He didn’t know that Dean had lied about a few key points on his resume. He couldn’t have. Dean leant against the wall of the building and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of the combed down style before he started walking again, already feeling more like himself. 

He made for the bus stop but his legs still felt a little wobbly, so instead of going home, Dean veered into the first hotel that advertised a bar. 

He plonked down, already loosening his tie. The bartender smiled at him. He indicated two fingers of whiskey, and the guy poured it, looking at him curiously. 

"Bad day at the office?" He asked. 

"Interview." Dean sighed, folding his borrowed tie carefully and slipping it into his jacket pocket. The bartender nodded sympathetically and moved to serve a woman at the other end of the bar. Dean watched him as he undid the top button of his shirt. He was pretty cute, about Dean’s height and lean, with a shock of orange hair and long dark eyelashes that brushed his freckled cheeks when he looked down. He hadn’t fucked a redhead in a while, not since Anna in high school. That had been, what, five years ago? He leant an elbow on the bar, sipping his whiskey and taking another long look at the bartender as he shook a cocktail, idly wondering if he was into guys. He’d long since given up trying to guess, or even taking people at their word, having found that even guys who claimed to be straight would happily fuck him given enough beer and charm. 

Nearly an hour later, he’d decided on asking for the bartender’s number (or at least when he got off work), when he was called to the other side of the bar. Dean fingered his glass, waiting for him to come back - the guy may as well have been attached to him with elastic, he couldn’t stay away. When he came back, Dean looked up, his most charming smile ready to be deployed. It died before it started, however, as Cute Barkeep pushed another full glass across the granite surface, inclining his head somewhat stiffly toward the end of the bar.

"Someone just bought you a drink." He said, an edge of coolness in his voice. Definitely interested, and now quite clearly put out. Whoever bought the drink had better be worth it, he thought, giving the redhead an apologetic smile and looking over to see who’d bought the whiskey, raising it in his hand by way of thanks. The glass nearly slipped from his fingers as he was again caught in the blue eyes that had scrutinized him from across the desk.

Castiel smiled as Dean struggled to form an appropriate facial expression, picking up his own glass and pushing away from the bar to walk around the people between them. By the time he reached his side, Dean had half-forgotten about the redhead behind the bar. His eyes were glued to the dark haired man in front of him. 

"Mr Winchester, it seems we meet again." Castiel said quietly, settling himself down on the stool to Dean’s right, setting his drink gracefully on the bar and adjusting his tie in his lap. “You changed your hair. I like it this way.”

"Ah." Was all Dean could manage for a few seconds. What the hell was it about this guy that left him fucking speechless? Castiel watched him, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Thanks for the drink." He said, eventually, raising it to his mouth. Castiel watched him sip the whiskey and lick the moisture from his lips, then his eyes flicked back to Dean’s. Dean shifted a little in his seat.

"May I ask what brings you to my hotel bar?" He asked.

"Your hotel?"

"Yes, Dean. May I call you Dean?" He nodded and Cas continued. "I’m staying at this hotel while my permanent accommodation is arranged. I was working in our Chicago office until very recently, but I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future."

"Oh. Good. I just came in here because, you know, I wanted a drink. And now I have two…" He indicated his half-finished drink, then picked it up and drained it. "No longer a problem."

Castiel laughed and took a sip of his own. “I like you, Dean.”

"Not enough to save me from a grilling in there." Dean raised his eyebrows as he took another sip. Castiel nodded at the barkeeper as he moved past them. Dean noted the way he looked jealously between them as he took the payment. He could always come back another time for the redhead.

"That wouldn’t be very professional of me, would it?" Castiel smiled. "Though I do have one more question for you, if you don’t mind."

Dean set his glass back down on the bar, sensing he wasn’t actually being given a choice. “Okay.”

"How well do you take instruction?" Castiel leaned forward as he spoke, eyes searching Dean’s. He was so close Dean could smell his cologne and see every fleck of navy in his irises. God fucking damn this guy was stunning. It took a second for his brain to catch up.

"Are we talking in a professional sense?"

Cas gave him a half-smile. "Not necessarily."

"Oh." Dean swallowed. Cas noted the way his throat worked and leant back a little, giving him time. He knew he was coming on stronger than usual, but there was something about Dean that he wanted fiercely, and had done the second he’d walked into his office.

"Of course, you don’t have t-"

"No, I- I can do that."

Castiel grinned, shark-like. “Good. And Dean?” Dean glanced at him over the top of his glass as he lifted it again - his mouth felt suddenly very dry. Castiel’s voice dropped an octave, which Dean hadn’t thought was possible up until then. “Don’t interrupt me.”

A thrill ran up Dean’s spine. “Sorry.” He said quickly, lowering his gaze, a blush rising up his neck and colouring his cheeks. Castiel liked that look on him.

He reached forward and ran a finger along Dean’s jaw, so quickly he wasn’t even sure it had really happened. “Nevermind. I don’t doubt you’ll learn quickly.”

Dean didn’t know what to do with his hands. He rubbed one along his thigh and adjusted his jacket with the other. Castiel watched him fidget, the look of quiet amusement in his eyes again. This guy had never subbed, not properly at least. Usually he liked them a little more experienced, but this shyness was interesting, especially from someone who’d seemed so sure of himself a few minutes ago.

He’d been watching him for a while before he sent over the drink, had seen the way he leaned towards the barkeeper, guessing that he usually took the lead. Even more interesting. He might resist being dominated a little, perhaps, but Castiel couldn’t pretend that he didn’t enjoy that.

“What say we finish these in my room?” Castiel tried. He was testing his luck here, he knew. There was nothing really concrete to say Dean would want to come with him. Dean regarded him for a second, eyes slipping from Castiel’s and over his lips again. Was he really going to do this? This guy could be his boss… But right now what was more important was how he wanted to know what those lips would feel like on his own, on his neck, around his cock. His leg twitched involuntarily. Fuck it.

“Sure, why not?”

Castiel hadn’t entirely been expecting that. His eyebrows raised infinitesimally. Dean grinned at Cas and set his glass down, winking at the barkeeper as he did so. Fuck it, if he was gonna be a whore, why not go the whole hog? He hopped down from his stool and stood back to let Castiel out, following him over to the elevators.

Dean was filled with nervous energy on the ride up to Castiel’s room, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Interviews he hated, but this was his playground, this was what he was good at. He looked over at Cas, wondering why the older man hadn’t moved to touch him yet. He clearly wanted to; it was written into every movement he made, the way he was holding his body.

It felt like ten hours before the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, though in reality it was barely a minute. Castiel gave Dean a glance before starting down the corridor, fingers already delving into his pocket for his key card. He fished it out and slid it through the reader on the door two away from the split in the hall. There was a tiny click of the lock unlatching and he gestured Dean inside.

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” Dean said almost conversationally as he crossed the threshold into the dark room. He’d not gone so far as three steps forwards before he was yanked back and pushed against the wall, Castiel’s body hard against his. The door closed, and the light vanished; only a thin strip under the door remained. 

“And you talk far too much.” Castiel growled against his ear. Dean thought he was going to kiss him then; he tensed in anticipation, but the pressure of his body was gone and Cas’ footsteps were moving down the hall. Dean followed slowly into the blackness of the room. Castiel flicked on a lamp and Dean saw it was actually a suite, with a large lounge area and doors leading off.

He stood in the middle of the room and gestured toward the couch in front of him. “Sit down, Dean.” 

Dean did as he was told. Castiel looked down at him for a few seconds. “Do you understand what I am asking of you?” He asked.

“You’re a Dom, right?” Dean asked, pressing his palms together and flicking his eyes up to Castiel, whose mouth twitched into a half-smile. 

“Yes. We need to set guidelines. What you’re comfortable with, what I expect from you and so forth.”

“Can we start with what you expect?” Dean’s voice wavered a little. He’d been with dominating guys before, but never one who identified as a fully-fledged Dominant.

“Obedience, mostly. I tell you to do something, you do it, no hesitation. I don’t need to punish my subs, but I will if you do not comply with a request promptly.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Punish?” The word had sent a throb through his dick; he hadn’t expected to be as into this as he was.

“Nothing scary. Certainly nothing that will mark. I sense you’ve not done this before?” Dean shook his head.

“No whips then?”

Castiel barked a laugh. “No, Dean. No whips. No blood, hot wax, nothing like that.”

Dean blew out a breath. “Good.”

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?” Castiel asked sincerely. 

“Nothing painful with my face. And don’t tie my ankles, please. Hands are okay, but I need my feet free.” Castiel nodded.

“If at any point you don’t like something, just say ‘apricots’, and everything stops, okay? Remember that.” 

“Apricots, got it.” Dean grinned up at him. Cas gave him an answering smile. Dean opened his mouth to ask what the next step was, but Castiel cut him off.

"Why don’t you go take a bath?" Castiel said abruptly, nodding towards a door off the lounge. Dean glanced in the direction he’d indicated. He looked up at Castiel, who smiled again at his disgruntled expression. "I want you clean. You can do that for me." It wasn’t a question. Dean stood up a little awkwardly. He didn’t expect it to start so soon. "There are towels inside. Leave your clothes in there when you’re finished. I will wait for you in the bedroom." He flicked his hand lazily towards the double doors through which a king sized poster bed was just in view. Dean made his way over to the bathroom, but Castiel’s voice stopped him just as he reached the doorway. "And don’t touch yourself. I’ll know if you have." Dean blushed, ducking his head and quickly closing the door behind him.

Castiel laughed silently to himself. New subs were definitely fun.

Dean looked around the cavernous tiled bathroom. The bath was huge, complete with seats in two corners - big enough that he’d have thought it was a hot tub under any other circumstances. He ran his fingers along the cool ceramic of the rim and wondering how he’d managed to get into this situation. From a job interview to flirting with a bartender to a bath in the hotel room of the guy who’d interviewed him. And who knew what would happen when the bath was over? His cock twitched at the thought. He ignored it and twisted both faucets on full, a stream of soft bubbly water splattered into the tub and he quickly pulled the stopper closed. He looked around and grabbed a bottle of bath foam from the counter. When in Rome… He upended the bottle over the stream and the thick foam immediately began to spread. The bath filled more quickly than he’d expected, for its size. He dipped his fingers in and found it to be just the right temperature. He shed his clothes quickly, somehow embarrassed as if he was being watched, and slid into the warm water.

In the en suite, Castiel showered quickly, resisting the urge to palm his hardening cock when he imagined what Dean’s body would look like bound and stretched out underneath him, damp and hot to the touch after his bath.

Dean washed at a more leisurely pace; the bath seemed to demand it somehow. He soaped his arms and rinsed them off, lifting his legs out of the water one at a time and rubbing them with the sweet-smelling high-end hotel bodywash too. He knelt up and squeezed some more of the wash into his hand, spreading it down the length of his cock, between his legs, fingers working quickly. He tried not to think about Castiel while he did it, but in seconds it wasn’t his own hands touching him, it was Castiel’s long fingers running over his balls. His stomach tightened and his cock was hardening, lengthening in his hand.

He’d said he’d know if he touched himself, but…his other hand dipped lower and soon one finger was circling his hole. He pushed in a little way, a minute gasp slipping from his parted lips as he did it. It had been a while since he’d been fucked like that - usually he’d top, but that didn’t seem likely tonight - and he was tight as hell. It wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a little. He pushed in to his second knuckle, closing his eyes as spikes of pleasure ran down his thighs. There was a sharp rap on the door and his eyes flew open, one of his knees jerking in surprise and throwing him off balance. He slipped backwards, hands flying in front of him and the water splashed loudly as he landed with a squeak of ceramic and a thud.

"Dean?" Castiel tried hard to keep the laughter out of his voice, leaning on the doorframe, a hand on either side. "I do hope you’re being good in there."

Dean wiped suds off his face with one hand and glanced guilty down at his half-hard cock through the water.

"Dean?" Castiel said again.

"Y-yeah. I’ll be out in a minute." His voice broke embarrassingly on the first word. Castiel shook his head, smirking to himself.

"I think you’re lying to me, Mr Winchester. You have been touching yourself, which is exactly the opposite of what I told you to do. I don’t take kindly to disobedience. You have two more minutes, and then I want you out here for your punishment." He pushed off from the doorframe, and sauntered into his room. He pulled off his towel, dried quickly and donned a fresh shirt and slacks, forgoing underwear and cufflinks since they would only get in the way.

He was out in a minute and a half, which was pleasing. Castiel watched him stone-faced, however, as he came into the room. Dean avoided eye contact and came to a stop a few feet from Castiel, one hand clutching the forearm of the other in an attempt to shield himself from Castiel’s glacial stare. 

“Lower your arms, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was a low growl, and Dean immediately let go and dropped his hands to his sides. “Sit down on the bed.” Dean sat, eyes still downcast, hands folded in his lap. “Look at me.” Dean glanced up, then dropped his eyes again. Castiel furrowed his brow and grasped Dean’s chin, forcing it up. Their eyes met. “Did you disobey me?” Dean tried to look away from those piercing blue eyes, but found he couldn’t. He nodded, embarrassed. Castiel’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally. He let go of Dean’s chin. “Move up to the top of the bed.”

Dean shuffled back, trying to keep his towel wrapped around his waist as he did so. Castiel watched him, moving around to the side of the bed in line with Dean. When he reached the headboard, eyes wide and still trained on Castiel’s, Cas reached forward and pulled Dean’s legs down so he was lying flat. 

“Stay still.” He knelt, reached under the bed and pulled his bag out – the bag he’d not been planning to use on this trip, but was now glad he’d brought. He rummaged for a second, pushing toys out of the way to find the silken restraints. He had rope, but he only used that with subs who preferred the roughness of it, and it wasn’t appropriate with Dean, new as he was to this.

Dean watched as Castiel tied it to the bed frame, long fingers working deftly and expertly at the knots, a nervous twist in his stomach. Somehow he trusted this man, despite having just met him. Castiel gripped Dean’s right wrist, wrapped the restraint twice around it and tied it off securely, but not too tightly. Dean flexed his fingers, and when Cas made his way to the other side of the bed, surreptitiously tried to pull free, but the knots held fast. Castiel tied his other wrist and then stood straight, gazing down at Dean on the bed for a few seconds, before kneeling on it and leaning over him.

“You’re going to find out what happens when you disobey my orders now, Dean. Are you ready?”

Dean nodded, lower lip caught in his teeth.

“So pretty.” Cas muttered, rubbing his thumb along Dean’s jaw. His fingers trailed down his neck, stopping at his chest. He circled his nipples in turn with the tip of his finger, watching them harden as Dean shifted under his touch. Castiel’s fingers moved again, down Dean’s chest, onto his stomach, where his skin twitched.

Cas leant closer, brushing his lips ever-so-slightly against Dean’s. Dean leant up to kiss him but Castiel moved back further so he couldn’t. He brought his lips to Dean’s neck instead, lying next to him now and kissing just below his jaw, down to his throat and back up. Cas ran his short nails along Dean’s thigh, and his leg twitched involuntarily at the touch. Dean felt hot all over; he was already getting hard, the towel rubbing against him uncomfortably. He sucked at the skin of Dean’s neck, and he gave a quiet groan. That would never do. He did it again, bringing his hand up Dean’s leg this time and almost under the towel, thumb rubbing backwards and forward on his inner thigh, teasing. 

Dean was panting now, cock fully hard and straining against the bobbled cotton. Cas kissed up his jaw and finally pushed their lips together with bruising force, Dean gasped into his mouth, and Castiel took the opening to thrust his tongue against Dean’s. The kiss didn’t last long before he pulled away, Dean’s lips trying to follow him again. Castiel pulled the tucked edge of the towel out from Dean’s waist and peeled it slowly down, both of them watching his hand. He let it crumple to the side, and dragged his nails across Dean’s hip, along his pelvic bone, resulting in another soft moan. As his fingers trailed, he picked up the other corner and pulled it towards him. Castiel’s lips parted slightly as he dragged the last few inches of cotton deliberately across Dean’s twitching cock, his own stirring in his slacks. He leant up on one elbow and traced a few inches around it on either side with the tips of his fingers. Dean whined low in his throat, hips pushing up off the bed with his growing need to be _touched_ , damn it. Castiel pushed them back down firmly.

“No Dean. I’ll touch you when I see fit.” Castiel kissed him again, his stubble rough against Dean’s clean shaven mouth, their lips fitting together perfectly. Castiel bit his lower lip, sucked it, then let go and kissed him again. He pushed himself against Dean’s hip, and Dean moaned into his mouth when he felt his hardness, turned on more by the older man’s arousal, desperate for further contact.

He wasn’t given it, however. Castiel moved his body away and knelt up again, moving between Dean’s legs and bending them gently at the knee, one at a time. He looked down at Dean’s cock, swollen and leaking precome onto his stomach. He wanted nothing more to lean down and press his lips to it, but they would both have to wait for that. Instead, Cas undid the fly of his slacks and pulled his own cock out. Dean’s eyes fell to it and his hips twisted again, another bead of come pulsing from his cock. He wanted badly to be out of his bonds, to touch and caress Cas’ skin the way Castiel was doing to him. His mouth filled with saliva at the thought of taking Cas in his mouth, imagining the way his skin would feel under his lips. Castiel wrapped a hand around himself, watching the younger man writhe helplessly before him, pulling at his bonds. Much better than he’d imagined it.

Dean’s eyes never left Castiel’s hand as it moved up and down his cock, squeezing gently as he reached the end. A drop of precome landed on Dean’s thigh. He used his other hand to wipe it off with his thumb. He let go of himself and leant between Dean’s thighs, careful not to touch any other part of him, and pressed his thumb to his lips. He sucked it hard and greedily, tongue swirling around, a low moan escaping him. Cas watched him with dark eyes, squeezed his cock a little harder as it pulsed with Dean’s sucking. He pulled his thumb out of Dean’s mouth, and he looked up at him with those wide, pleading green eyes, lips pink and wet and still parted. 

Castiel’s self-control was being tested to its limits with this one. He wanted to fuck this guy’s mouth until he gagged, but he squashed the urge down and pushed himself upright again, hand trailing up Dean’s quivering leg as he went. He slid his hand up and down the soft skin of his inner thigh as he continued to stroke himself, watching beads of sweat break out on Dean’s forehead, his neck flushed a gorgeous pink-red, tightly muscled stomach heaving with each breath.

“Castiel,” Dean groaned, finally. “Please.”

“When you were in the bathtub, where did you touch yourself?” Castiel asked after a pause.

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, chewing his lower lip. Cas lifted his hand off Dean’s thigh, and he groaned again at the loss of contact.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Cas asked, rolling the pad of his thumb over the end of his cock. Dean watched him do it, desperate to have those hands, that mouth on him again. His eyes flicked back to Castiel’s face. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“I…just...” Was he really going to make him say it? Jesus Christ. “My ass, okay?”

Castiel’s eyebrows hitched higher. Dean couldn’t tell if that was a good thing. He didn’t care, he just wanted more. “Your ass, hm?” He leaned forward, both hands going to Dean’s thighs now. “Were you thinking about me?” Dean glanced at him again, looked away and nodded. Castiel smiled, brought his lips to Dean’s thigh. Dean was trembling all over now, breath hitching. “You thought about me, touching your cock.” He said, between kisses, working his way up. “Playing with your tight little hole.” His cheek bumped Dean’s cock, rasping across the soft skin, making Dean’s eyes squeeze shut. He swapped to the other thigh. Dean cursed and rolled his hips. He was ready to blow; he had been for the last five minutes. Castiel had worked him – was working him - too hard, he needed to come. 

“Did you think about me fucking you?” He could feel Cas’ breath on his balls. His cock twitched higher, desperate to be touched. He nodded again and squeezed his eyes shut, breath stuttering from him in short gasping bursts. “I’m going to fuck you, Dean.” His voice was so low Dean could hardly hear him. “But I want you to come for me first.” He licked a stripe up the underside of Dean’s oversensitive cock, sliding his lips around the head and circling his tongue, tasting the arousal he’d created. Dean cried out, his hips lifting again. Cas opened his throat and took him as far as he could, humming gently. Dean bucked and cursed, coming harder than he thought he’d ever come, shaking and sweating, Cas’ name falling from his lips again and again. He became aware his arms were aching from being held out above his head for so long. Castiel stretched out above him, quickly releasing the ties on his wrists, his fingers gently rubbing feeling back into his forearms as he pulled them down to his sides. He kissed Dean surprisingly tenderly, lips moulding into his, salty with the taste of Dean’s come and sweat. 

“You need a drink?” Cas asked when he pulled away, nuzzling Dean’s jaw. Dean nodded numbly, and Cas immediately got up to fetch him one. While he was gone, Dean rubbed at each wrist in turn, pushed and pulled his wrecked body across the mattress until he was sat up against the headboard. Rolled his shoulders. This was gonna hurt in the morning.

Castiel returned and handed Dean a glass, sitting on the bed beside him. Dean noted he’d tucked his cock back into his pants, but he was still hard under the material. Dean couldn’t say the same for himself, looking down at his soft cock resting against his thigh. He sipped the cool water, crisp on his parched tongue. He’d really been sweating; the sheets were still damp under his legs. Castiel must have some self-control, Dean thought, to get so worked up and then just sit there like he had all the time in the world. 

“I’m not finished with you yet, Dean.” Castiel said, as if he had read Dean’s mind, glancing back. “Drink, and then I want you on your knees.”

Dean licked his lips nervously, the sharp pang of arousal spiking in his stomach again. Already? He could hardly believe it. His cock stayed put this time. It was probably for the best, this time he could really focus on Cas before his own excitement got too much. He was a little tired, as was to be expected after such an ordeal, but Cas wasn’t finished with him and somehow that mattered more. He had work to do, and holy fuck did he want to do it. He swallowed the rest of the water in two gulps. Castiel stood up and took the glass from his hand, set it on the end table. He flicked his finger twice in a come-hither motion and Dean stood too, eyes set squarely on Castiel’s Adam’s apple, which he now had an overwhelming urge to bite. He moved forward a step and Cas put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Knees.”

Dean dropped a little too quickly. His knees protested with a heady twinge of pain, but he ignored that, focusing on the straining material in front of him. He wanted to taste Castiel, to feel him pushing at the inside of his throat. But Castiel gripped hard onto his hair and kept him just out of reach. Dean let out a thin whine.

“You want my cock?” Cas asked, palming himself over the slacks with his free hand. Dean nodded, feeling the tightening of Castiel’s fingers in his hair as his head moved and not caring. His hands moved to Castiel’s legs, thumbs pressing at the material and sliding up his thighs. Castiel grabbed his wrists and forced them to his sides.

“Sit on your hands.” He commanded. “Make sure you keep them where they are.” Dean tucked his hands under his shins, eyes downcast and cheeks burning again. Castiel twisted his fingers into Dean’s hair a second time.

Castiel grasped his zipper with the forefinger and thumb of his free hand, keeping Dean’s head locked where it was with his left. He had to tug his cock free again, but it was worth it for the look of awe on Dean’s face, the desire in his eyes. He tried to lean toward it again, tongue out now, reaching to taste. Castiel yanked his head back a few inches again. 

“Control yourself, Dean.” He chastised, wrapping his fingers around himself again and squeezing the base of his shaft. It was getting hard to wait, to have Dean’s wet, eager mouth inches away from his cock when he wanted it so much, but watching Dean lust after him, eager and panting, was even better than giving in. He gave himself a couple of strokes and had to stop. He needed to pace himself. Dean glanced up at him, pleading with his eyes. He gave a little with his grip and let Dean’s tongue drag over the very tip, an unwitting groan pulled from him. Dean struggled harder to move forwards when Cas let out the noise, but he held tight to his hair again.

“I want to fuck you, Dean, but you’re not making it easy to hold on that long.” He growled. A thrill ran up Dean’s spine. Good, Castiel was as turned on by this as he was. “Undress me. Do not touch me unnecessarily.” He let go of Dean’s hair and he fell back onto his heels, stunned for a second. He quickly unfolded himself and pushed himself to his feet, undoing Castiel’s shirt buttons awkwardly with shaking fingers. 

His cock bumped against Dean’s hip and he inhaled sharply, lust overtaking his brain once more, almost letting go of the buttons to take it in his hands. Castiel gave him a warning look. He dropped his eyes and continued until he could pull the shirt from Castiel’s shoulders. He reached for the button of his pants but Castiel’s hand was there first, popping the button. Dean knelt again, disappointed, pulling the pants down to Cas’ feet and letting him step out of them, acutely aware of his erection bobbing inches from his face. He’d looked good in his suit, but Dean could see all of him now too, his lean, toned torso, his dark pubic hair, the muscles in his thighs. He was beautiful, and Dean wanted to taste his smooth, tanned skin. His head moved automatically forward, but Cas’ deep voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Get on the bed.” He ordered sharply, and Dean stood again and crawled backwards up onto the clumsily, legs still feeling a little jelly-like from earlier, while Castiel watched with dark eyes. “Spread your legs a little.” Castiel instructed. Dean complied, but only a few inches. “Wider. I want to see all of you.”

He let his knees fall open, looking away again in embarrassment. He’d never been asked to spread himself bare like this before. It was shameful and unbelievably hot all at once. Castiel knelt on the floor to delve into his bag again. He found a condom, ripped it open and rolled it on before pulling out the bottle of lube and spreading a little on his fingers, testing it for slip.

“So god damn pretty.” He murmured, bringing his hands up to stroke Dean’s thighs again. He pressed his lubed fingers against Dean’s hole and felt a little resistance. He circled it instead, watching the pink skin pucker under his touch. He pressed again, this time succeeding in slipping the tip of his middle finger in. Dean moaned throatily even at that; Castiel’s dick jumped in response, but he continued his slow progress with his hands. 

He pushed in to his second knuckle. “Was this what it felt like, when you touched yourself?” he asked, almost conversationally. Dean wondered how he managed the tone until Cas’ finger flexed inside him, pulling against the tightened muscles and sparking another moan. Dean’s fingers found the sheets, gripping them tight as if he might fly off the bed without their anchorage.

“Is this better?” Castiel purred, slipping a second finger in with the first. Dean shuddered under his touch, mewling so quietly Cas could hardly hear it. He twisted his fingers and then Dean found his voice, letting slip a short ‘fuck’ and a loud, sighing groan of pleasure. Cas’ lips twitched up.

“You want my cock inside you?” Castiel asked, picking up the bottle again and hissing slightly as he dripped the cool liquid directly onto himself, smoothing it along his length. Dean was nodding, his cock half-hard again, clenching around Cas’ fingers as he pushed them in all the way and twisted them back out, testing him. “You ready, baby?” He asked, genuinely concerned, but Dean was already too far gone to care about concern. He wanted Castiel inside him hours ago; he would have let himself get torn to feel full of Castiel at this point.

“Please, Castiel. Fuck me.” He whispered, voice cracking perfectly. That was all Castiel needed. He pushed Dean further up the bed with one hand and knelt between his legs, fingers of the other still working inside him. He pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his cock, pressing the tip against the warmth of Dean, pushing until he gave just a little, until the head of his cock popped through the ring of muscles, surrounded by the delicious tightness of Dean, both of them groaning with the sensation. He stayed where he was for a moment, letting Dean get used to the feeling.

“You want more of my cock?” Castiel asked, hips pushing forward ever-so-slightly, giving only a few millimetres. Dean nodded, biting his lip. Cas grasped Dean’s chin and pulled his lip out from his teeth. “I want you to say it.”

“Please.” Dean panted. This wasn’t enough, he needed all of him. Cas fucked into him half an inch and he cried out. “Please?” He repeated more urgently, breathing speeding up, his fingers raking down Castiel’s arms. Cas pulled out further. “Fuck, Cas.” He pushed in again, further this time. Dean sucked in a shaky breath, making himself relax. He was desperate for it, but he wasn’t used to this stretch any more. Castiel rocked his hips, pushing into Dean further in tiny increments. Dean let out a choking, sobbing moan when he suddenly hilted himself.

“Fuck, Dean, you feel so fucking good.” Cas growled through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut. He wasn’t going to last, not as long as he wanted to. Dean watched his face, wondered if Castiel would lose his carefully controlled composure when they fucked. He tightened around him, squeezing hard, and Cas’ arms began to shake. His eyes opened, dark navy and blazing. One hand curved around Dean’s thigh, and with his eyes still on Dean, he pulled out a few inches and thrust back into him, hard. Dean threw his head back, neck cording as a jolt of pleasure coursed through him, tinged with pain. Cas fucked into him again, changing the angle slightly. This time he hit Dean’s prostate, and his eyes flew open, mouth a pink ‘o’. Castiel grinned wickedly and did it again.

Dean’s hands came up automatically, grasping at every inch of Cas he could reach, gripping his back, scratching down his skin. Castiel would have usually grabbed those hands and held them down, keeping his sub from the satisfaction of touching him back, but Dean had done well tonight, obedient and eager to please as he was, so he allowed it.

He ground his hips in a circle, Dean gasping beneath him, feeling so completely full that he couldn’t register anything but sensation. Castiel watched him begin to come apart again, trying to detach himself from his own orgasm, which was building quickly. He liked the noises Dean made, liked how responsive he was, how quickly he’d learnt, how tight and warm he felt, clenching around his cock.

“You gonna come again for me, baby?” He asked, wrapping a hand round Dean’s throat, careful to keep his weight on his other arm. Dean moaned in answer, his hips bucking to meet Castiel’s thrusts, sure and rhythmic. He squeezed Dean’s neck gently and fucked into him faster, his own orgasm pooling low in his belly. Dean’s face reddened, veins standing out on his temples, fingers gripping tight to Cas’ arm on the bed. His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned as he came a second time, in long stripes across his stomach, cock pulsing. 

That sight was all he could take; Castiel finally let himself go, releasing Dean’s throat and grabbing both of his thighs. He thrust into him twice more, pushed into him all the way and held himself there as his body shook with the force of his own climax. Dean watched his face, rolling his hips languidly as Cas panted over him, head hanging, still revelling in the feeling of being full. He winced when Castiel pulled out and collapsed onto the bed next to him, rolling onto his side to pull off the condom.

There was a beat of silence while they caught their breath. Dean glanced at Castiel, lying on his back with one arm across his bare stomach, the other across his forehead.

“You didn’t hit me.” Dean said eventually. “I thought you were going to hit me.”

Cas dropped his arm to the bed, lips curled at the ceiling. “Punishment comes in many forms, Dean. Did you feel punished?”

Dean remembered pulling at the restraints, desperate for more, and nodded. “I see your point.”

Cas chuckled and rolled onto his side to look Dean in the eyes. He flicked a thumb along the length of his jaw. “We’ll make a good sub of you yet, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s stomach flipped. That would mean a repeat performance. “So you want to see me again?”

“I’d very much like to see you again, Dean, if you’d agree to that.” Castiel scooted nearer, pressing their flushed skin together. “It would, however, mean I couldn’t employ you. It would be unethical.” He smirked, and Dean looked at him, feeling kind of ridiculous for being disappointed. He’d really wanted that job. “I have contacts in many other companies. You don’t have to make a choice between fucking me and being employed.” He added. Dean grinned.

“In that case, I agree.” Castiel leaned in and placed a jarringly chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Glad to hear it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in November. I don't know what made me pick it back up, but it was finished within a week. This is not only my first Destiel fic, but my first foray into casual bondage/general BDSM, so apologies if any of it's a bit wrong. Thank you (as always) to Samwise ([confectionerybrick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/confectionerybrick/pseuds/confectionerybrick)), for your unending dedication to my filth.


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